Enemies of the Heir
by OldValyriaRises
Summary: 1943. Augusta Fawley finds herself in a school surrounded by terror and plagued by a dangerous monster. Attacks on muggle-borns, mysterious disappearances, and through it all, a boy who is as compelling as he is dangerous. The story of a girl pulled in too deep, and a boy who wants to be so much more than a man. AU (As close to Canon as possible).
1. Prologue

_A/N: - This is a story that I've toyed with in a couple of incarnations, and I submitted another version with my old account, but I decided that I wasn't happy with that one and took it down. Basically, I've always wanted to hear more about certain underappreciated characters, and who doesn't love reading about 1940's Hogwarts? So I cooked this one up and voila! _

_I hope you enjoy reading._

* * *

**PROLOGUE**

_Augusta_

* * *

Neville looked like he'd seen a thousand wars on the morning of the day he was going to depart for his last year of Hogwarts. Augusta watched her grandson as he toyed with the bacon rind on his plate, pushing it backwards and forwards through the leftover egg yolk without actually registering what he was doing. His eyes, the same blue colour that his father had, that Augusta herself had, weren't focused on the room. They were a million miles away, probably searching for answers to questions he would never fully understand.

She knew the feeling.

Augusta turned back to the sink, and the self-cleaning dishes she had been supervising. The sky beyond the kitchen window was a stormy grey, and she couldn't help thinking that it was an omen for things to come.

"Where do you think they are?"

The sound of Neville's voice roused Augusta from her thoughts. She glanced back at him. He had put down his fork, and was instead staring intently into his glass of orange juice. His brow puckered in the middle whenever he was deeply contemplating something, and it was a trait that Augusta remembered fondly. His grandfather had used the exact same expression.

"Where who are, dear?"

"Harry. And Ron and Hermione, too. Do you think they have a plan?" Neville looked up suddenly, and his face was filled with so much earnest hope that it made Augusta's heart clench painfully.

"If anyone does, they do," she said carefully.

Neville sighed. "I don't know what to do, Gran. Everyone at school is going to be lost without Harry to lead us."

"You don't need Harry to lead you, Neville."

He snorted. "Oh, yeah? Who else is going to do it?"

Augusta tilted her head to one side. It amazed her that after all he had accomplished in his short seventeen years of life, Neville still doubted his own abilities. He had the steel spine of a true Gryffindor, and the makings of a great hero. She just wished he believed that.

"_You_ can."

"Nobody will listen to me. Not like they listened to Harry, anyway."

Crossing the room in three strides, Augusta pulled out the chair opposite him and dropped into it. Her muscles groaned in protest, but she ignored the feeling.

_Hasn't anyone ever told you? Getting old is for the weak, Augusta_.

She didn't know what made her think those words after so many years, but she could still hear his voice saying them like it was yesterday. He'd laughed when he told her that, his dark eyes sparkling with life and the kind of vibrant energy that she couldn't help being drawn to.

She shook the thought from her mind as quickly as it had come. Instead, she refocused her attention on her dejected grandson. "You're selling yourself short, you know. It doesn't take great heroic victories to be a leader, Neville. It just takes conviction and faith in yourself. If you have that, then everyone else will believe in you, too."

"But I don't believe in myself," he muttered.

"Well, then, you're an idiot."

Neville almost smiled at that. "I know, Gran."

"Listen," she said. She leaned across the table and grabbed his hand firmly in both of her wrinkled ones. "I've seen people leading out of intimidation and fear in my time. I've seen them leading out of twisted beliefs, and I've seen them leading out of some fairly sound beliefs, too. But you know who the best leaders are?"

He shook his head. "No."

"The ones who lead out of love. Your grandfather was like that. I know you can be."

"I'm not Granddad," Neville pointed out.

"No," Augusta agreed. "You're you. And it's about time you realised that that's more than good enough, Neville Longbottom."

He withdrew his hand from hers and patted her knuckles clumsily. Augusta knew that he wasn't convinced, but she didn't allow herself to dwell on it. Neville would realise his own worth soon enough, and on that day, he would make her proud enough to last a thousand lifetimes.

"What was he like?" Neville whispered. "Granddad, I mean."

Augusta paused for a moment while she searched her brain for the right words. Melvin, God rest his soul, had been the best kind of man. Kind, patient and braver than anyone else she knew. He'd poured his whole heart and soul into everything and everyone he cared about.

"He was a lot like you," she replied gently.

"You loved him a lot." It wasn't a question. Neville, like his father before him, had grown up hearing stories of how much Augusta had loved her husband.

"Yes, I did. With all my heart."

"You only get that kind of love once in your life, don't you?"

It was an innocent enough question, but Augusta felt the guilt gripping her heart, as she did every time anyone so much as hinted at her life before Melvin Longbottom. She had made mistakes in her younger years, and she wasn't alone in that. Even Dumbledore had had somewhat of a misspent youth.

Her biggest mistake was also her biggest regret. It was a well-kept secret, these days. Barely anyone knew. But Augusta couldn't keep secrets from herself, and in moments like this, it wasn't Melvin's tousled blond hair and earnest green eyes that popped up in her mind. No, the face she saw was crowned with hair as black as night, a face with flashing dark eyes that saw far too much and far too little at the same time.

It was _his_ crooked smile she thought of. _His_ laugh. _His_ tears.

Not Melvin's.

"Yes, Neville," Augusta lied. "You only get that kind of love once."

She tried to quell the guilt in her heart by justifying it to herself. What she had told her grandson wasn't a _complete_ lie, after all. She could never have had the life she shared with her husband if she had been with _him_. He wasn't built for it.

Melvin Longbottom had been Augusta's last love. Her longest love.

But he hadn't been her first.

* * *

_This is going to be Augusta's story while at school, but it won't just be from her perspective. I'm sure you might have guessed who else we'll be hearing from. ;)_

_Thanks for reading!_

_OldValyriaRises_


	2. Chapter 1

**1943**

**1.**

* * *

_Augusta_

* * *

"I don't know about you," Doris slammed a thick textbook down onto the table beside Augusta, scattering her neatly-ordered notes with the force of the impact. She glanced up from her current piece of parchment as her friend threw herself bodily into the vacant chair on her right. "But I am completely sick of all this homework."

In all fairness, Doris did look as though she had been working for days on end. Her mousy brown hair was tangled, her hazel eyes rimmed with red, and there was a large splotch of blue ink on her chin. Augusta gave her a weary smile.

"It's not too much longer. All we have to do is finish the essay for Slughorn."

"Ugh!" Doris groaned. "_Slughorn_. I hate potions almost as much as I hate his stupid moustache."

Augusta chuckled. This was a well worn topic with her best friend. "Well, seeing as you hating potions isn't going to get you out of having to hand in this essay, best start researching the uses of dragon's blood."

"But it's so boring!"

"I'll admit it's not the most fun essay I've ever written."

Doris lifted her head from her arms to shoot her a withering look. "The mere fact that you think any essay you've ever written could qualify as interesting just proves that you have too much time on your hands. Have you ever thought about – I don't know – getting a life?"

"I have a life," Augusta objected.

"Oh, yeah? When was the last time you went out on a date, Augs?"

She didn't respond. She knew full well that her friend was baiting her to get a reaction, and she wasn't about to give Doris the satisfaction of rising to the taunt.

"If you're wondering," Doris continued when it became apparent that Augusta wasn't going to answer. "The answer to that question is 'never'."

"Did you read the Prophet this morning?" Changing the subject seemed like Augusta's best diversion tactic. Usually, Doris would have been wise to her tricks, but this time, she gasped.

"About what happened in Berlin? Yes! Merlin, isn't it awful? Grindelwald butchered that whole family in their beds. The children, too. Just because they were muggles."

It was a sensitive subject for Doris, seeing as she was muggle-born herself. Augusta leaned over to pat her arm in sympathy. "Someone will get him eventually."

"Like who?"

Augusta dotted an 'i' with a flourish. "Dumbledore, probably. I can tell all of this Grindelwald stuff is upsetting him."

"What could Dumbledore do?" Doris replied. "He's just a teacher."

"He's a brilliant wizard, Doris, and you know it."

She leaned back in her chair, surveying Augusta with narrowed eyes. "You only say that because you're his favourite. Well, you and Minerva."

"More Minerva than me, I think," Augusta muttered. She was only half paying attention now as her eyes scanned over a paragraph of _Dragons: Fire, Blood and Fear_. "Hey, did you read this part about dragon's blood being used in binding potions? I'm going to have to add another paragraph now…"

Doris snapped her fingers in front of Augusta's face, making her jump. "Hello? We were talking about things that are actually important, you know! Europe is falling apart, and you're worrying about potions essays?"

"Yes, actually." Off Doris's look, Augusta sighed. "Look, there's not much that we can do. The muggles are fighting their war, and Grindelwald is waging his. We're too young to do anything to fix either situation. I'm going to focus on the things I _can_ do. Like this essay."

"Fine." She fell silent, but Augusta knew better than to think that would last for longer than a minute. Exactly forty-nine seconds later, she spoke. "Did you know that Melvin tried out for the Gryffindor team yesterday?"

"The quidditch team?"

Doris rolled her eyes. "No, the gobstones team! Of _course _the quidditch team!"

"How did he do?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him all day."

Neither had Augusta, come to think of it. She set her quill down, giving up on the hope of getting any work done with Doris for company. "I'm sure he did well. He's a really good chaser."

"I hope so. I'm not very good at handling disappointment."

"I am," Augusta joked. "It's the story of my life."

Doris opened her mouth, no doubt to protest her self-deprecation, but she was beaten to the punch. A high, sneering voice drifted from between the two bookshelves nearest their table.

"Yes, Fawley, I'm sure it is. Disappointing looking, disappointingly stupid and disappointingly bad at picking your friends."

Augusta sighed just as the speaker stepped into view. Her long, dark hair was pulled up into an attractive knot at the base of her neck, and her equally dark eyes swept over both Augusta and Doris as though they were completely beneath her. A vicious smirk played about the corners of her lips.

Augusta put on her most cheerful smile. "Always a pleasure to see you, too, Lucretia."

Lucretia Black was one of her least favourite people in the school. Actually, she was one of her least favourite people in the _world_. Augusta watched stonily as the other girl yawned and flicked a speck of non-existent dirt off her silver and green tie.

"I couldn't help but overhear," she said.

"Because you were eavesdropping," Doris tacked on helpfully. Augusta fought a smirk.

Lucretia rolled her eyes. "I wasn't speaking to you, mudblood."

Augusta was on her feet and pointing her wand at the Slytherin girl's chest before she even knew what was happening. "Call Doris that vile name again," she snarled, "And I'll hex you into so many tiny pieces that they'll be sending what's left of you to the hospital wing in a matchbox."

Lucretia regarded the wand pointed at her heart coolly. "Oh? I doubt you've even got the courage to do it, Fawley, so forgive me for not quaking in my boots."

"I swear to…"

"What in Merlin's name is going on over here?" The voice that broke the tension this time was male. It wasn't long before a tall, lanky boy moved into view to stand by Augusta's side. She couldn't see him properly in her peripheral vision, but the flash of blond curls and the husky voice were enough for her to identify him.

"Longbottom," Lucretia sneered, nodding at the newest arrival. "I was hoping you'd show up. I hear you're to become a part of our family."

Beside her, Augusta heard Melvin's jaw shut with an audible snap. "What are you talking about?" he demanded through clenched teeth.

Lucretia's pretty dark eyes widened with a faux-innocence that made Augusta feel sick to her stomach. "Didn't you hear? Your brother Harfang proposed to Callidora last week."

Augusta turned to Melvin to check his reaction. His blue eyes were narrowed to near slits in a combination of outrage and disappointment. He looked as though someone had just told him that Christmas was cancelled this year. "Oh, that's bloody brilliant. When's the wedding, then?"

"Hallowe'en," Lucretia replied smugly. "I'm sure your invitation got lost in the mail. Either that, or your brother doesn't want a dirty blood traitor like you there. I mean, I wouldn't invite anyone who voluntarily spends his time with mudbloods if I were him." Her cruel gaze flickered over Melvin and settled on Augusta. "For Salazar's sake, you two are a disgrace to the name of pure-bloods."

Augusta growled and jabbed her wand a little closer to Lucretia's chest. "I'm warning you…"

"And I'm not scared," she said. "So your warnings aren't doing much good, are they?"

"Lower your wand, Augusta," Melvin instructed. "You can't go cursing people in the library."

"She's not a person," Augusta replied savagely. "She's a snake in school uniform."

Lucretia laughed. "Is that supposed to insult me?"

Melvin reached over and forcibly tugged Augusta's wand arm to her side. When he was sure she wouldn't lift it again, he turned to face the Slytherin. "Get out of here, Lucretia, if you know what's good for you."

She shrugged in response. "Alright. I'll see you at the wedding, Longbottom. Or not."

It wasn't until she had disappeared out of the open double doors that Augusta finally relaxed. She rounded on Melvin, glaring up into his concerned face.

"Why didn't you let me hex her when I had the chance?"

"What, and let you get detention for a month? She's not worth it, Augusta, I've told you a million times," he shot back.

"She called Doris a mudblood."

"Are you expecting that to shock me? She's _Lucretia Black_, of course she did. She's a horrible excuse for a human being. It doesn't mean you have to descend to her level."

"He's right, you know," Doris put in. She was still sitting in the same position she had been before Lucretia had shown up, her arms folded across her closed copy of _Magical Drafts and Potions_.

"Traitor!" Augusta muttered. "I had your back just then."

"I know, and I appreciate it, Augs, but you shouldn't get yourself in trouble over something so stupid. If you hexed everyone who called me a mudblood, there'd barely be anyone left in Slytherin."

"Yeah," Augusta agreed. "So?"

At that point, Melvin started to chuckle. It blossomed after a few moments into a deep, hearty laugh. The two girls looked at each other for a moment, torn, before reluctantly starting to laugh themselves.

"I swear, Augs, you're going to get yourselves in so much trouble one day," Melvin said, shaking his head at her ruefully.

Augusta decided that a change of subject was in order. "I hear you auditioned for the Gryffindor team."

"Yeah," Melvin blushed a little. "Damien quit last term, so they had a space. Actually, that's what I was on my way to tell you. I'm in!"

"You made chaser?" Doris's voice shot through three octaves in her glee. "That's brilliant!"

"Congratulations, Mel." Augusta glanced up at the clock hanging on the wall in front of them. "Holy hippogriff! We've got Potions in two minutes!"

* * *

By the time they got to the Potions corridor, the three of them were already late. Trying to sneak into Slughorn's classes was easy if you were an unremarkable student, but, unfortunately for Augusta, she had always been something of a favourite for the professor.

He caught them almost the second they slipped through the door. "Ah, Miss Fawley. Mr Longbottom. And Miss Crockford. Got lost on our way to the dungeons, did we?"

Augusta felt herself blushing, but she forced herself to look Professor Slughorn in the eye. He was watching them with a faintly amused smile under his enormous blond moustache, his fleshy hands folded over his protuberant belly.

"Sorry, Professor."

He gave a jovial little laugh. "Not to worry, m'girl! Not to worry! You haven't really missed anything of consequence. Mr Longbottom, Miss Crockford, if you would be so kind as to take the table down here on my right." Slughorn pointed to the empty table at the front of the class. Doris shot Augusta a grimace as they walked away. She felt her heart sink slightly – she wouldn't be working with her friends today, it seemed.

"And where am I supposed to go, Professor?"

"Well, Augusta, why don't you sit up at the back and keep Tom company?" Slughorn proclaimed the words with an exuberant amount of gusto, but Augusta felt anything but cheerful at the prospect. Glancing over her shoulder towards the back of the room, she saw his artfully tousled black hair as he bent his head to examine the pages of his textbook.

_Do I have to? _didn't seem like an appropriate question to ask, so Augusta just nodded grimly and gritted her teeth. Her feet felt heavy as she dragged them up the aisle to her new seat.

Tom Riddle. Why him, of all people? She could've been paired with Lycurgus Scamander, the oddball Ravenclaw boy. Or Catherine Bones, the rosy-cheeked Hufflepuff girl who was always very kind to her. But no, Augusta had drawn the short straw, and instead, she had to deal with proud, haughty and cold Riddle.

She dropped into the vacant chair and snuck a glance at the boy next to her from the corner of her eye as Slughorn resumed his speech. Riddle was still studiously ignoring her presence, pretending instead to be raptly reading his own notes. One of the main problems with Tom Riddle wasn't just his personality. It was that he was entirely too handsome for his own good, what with his clever dark eyes and his flawlessly pale skin, his chiselled jaw and his perfectly sculpted face. His looks were distracting, but they were also wasted on him. No amount of beauty on the outside could make him a better person on the inside.

"I thought Malfoy usually partnered with you," Augusta muttered.

"He usually does," Riddle's voice was deep and velvety, full of dark seduction. It was the voice that ninety percent of the girls at Hogwarts swooned over. Not Augusta, though. Riddle might've been bewitching, but she wasn't about to fall under his spell. "But he's sick today."

"What's wrong with him?"

He turned to look at her properly for the first time. Those dark eyes looked even darker up close. They were the kind of eyes that held a million secrets. He frowned slightly. "You know, I never thought to ask. A little insensitive of me, actually."

Augusta didn't think for a second that he cared about being insensitive to anyone, save for what it would cost his reputation, but she had to admit that she was impressed by his performance. Just the right amount of concern and self-admonishment leaked into his tone. He gave her a small nod and turned back to his book, brushing his dark hair away from his eyes with long, slender fingers.

For the next few minutes, he could obviously see Augusta still watching him, but he didn't react to it. It wasn't until she had been burning a hole in the side of his head with her eyes for a full five minutes that his facial expression changed at all. It was only the tiniest of changes – just a slight curl to the corners of his full lips.

"Something funny, Tom?" Augusta said.

He smiled fully. "You wouldn't understand if I told you."

"Try me," she challenged. His smile got wider at the belligerence in her tone. "Or am I not twisted enough to appreciate your sense of humour?"

Riddle actually laughed at that. A soft, barely there sound that almost sent a shiver down Augusta's spine. "What makes you think that I have a twisted sense of humour?"

"You're a Slytherin," she replied, nodding to his silver and green tie.

"And what of it?" He arched one ebony brow at her. "Are all Slytherins twisted in your eyes? I have to say, that sounds a little prejudiced."

Augusta opened her mouth to respond, but shut it immediately. What he had said was undeniably the truth, but the hypocrisy of the accusation left her temporarily speechless. After a few seconds' struggle, she managed to form words. "You're one to talk."

"And what is that supposed to mean?"

"You and your little fan club, Riddle. You all hate muggles and muggle-borns just because of their blood."

"I never said that," he said. He turned the page of his textbook as he spoke, still not looking at her.

Augusta leaned across the table towards him, lowering her voice to barely a hiss. "Oh, really? Are you going to pretend that you aren't friends with Lucretia Black?"

"No. Why would I do that? Everyone knows that I'm friends with Lucretia."

"She was spouting off absolute rubbish about muggle-borns and blood traitors in the library not even twenty minutes ago," Augusta said.

"Yes, but _I_ wasn't. I don't speak for my friends, Fawley, any more than they speak for me."

She didn't know quite what to say to that. It seemed unlikely that she had misjudged Riddle for the entirety of the five and a half years they had been at Hogwarts together, but she couldn't deny that it was unfair to condemn him for someone else's behaviour.

"Surely it says a lot about you that you'd be friends with a person like that."

"Doesn't it say more about you that you'd judge someone else based on things that other people say?"

His logic was maddening. Augusta huffed and folded her arms across her chest. "You don't fool me, Tom Riddle."

He turned his head to look at her again, and this time, his smile was wide and natural. The effect was sort of dazzling. Augusta blinked rapidly. "Oh, Augusta Fawley. I'm not trying to."

The sound of Professor Slughorn clearing his throat made them both jump. Augusta looked up to find him watching them both intently.

"Tom? Are you alright?"

Tom fought to keep the expression on his face neutral. "I'm fine, sir."

"And you, Augusta?"

His twinkling eyes focused on _her_, then. She bestowed on him a charming grin worthy of Tom himself. "Oh, yes, Professor. I'm fantastic."

A muscle twitched in Riddle's jaw, like he was annoyed by her breezy attitude.

"Is there anything the pair of you would like to share?" Slughorn asked in a teasing tone. "There seems to be a Slytherin/Gryffindor dispute arising at your table."

"No, sir," Tom said sincerely. He was a little _too_ sincere with his delivery, because Slughorn still wore that knowing smile as he regarded them both. Augusta wondered what it was that he thought he knew.

"Ah, Miss Fawley, Mr Riddle, I feel that if you're going to have a lover's spat, we may have to separate you," Slughorn joked, chuckling lightly.

"Excuse me?!" The expostulation burst from Augusta's throat without warning, accompanied by a snort from the occupied seat beside her. Apparently Tom objected to that idea as much as she did.

"It's okay, your secret is safe with us," said the professor, winking jovially. Riddle sat in outraged silence, too stunned to form any further words of protest. Beside him, Augusta was doing the same. She folded her arms tightly, and angled her whole body away from him, so that, if he'd cared to look, all Riddle could see of her was the back of her head and the red lining of her hood. "You know," Slughorn mused, stroking his moustache thoughtfully. "I think I rather like these seating arrangements. Perhaps we'll make them permanent."

"Professor!" Augusta protested. She noticed that Riddle looked equally upset at the thought of sitting beside her until summer.

"You'll thank me for it, Augusta."

Professor Slughorn didn't know what he was thinking, she thought, if he could ever believe that she would thank him for being given extra time to spend with Tom Riddle, of all people.

It was official. Augusta Fawley's year was completely ruined.

* * *

_A/N: - Some timeline information. This story begins in January 1943. As you'll probably know, this is the year when Tom Riddle finds and opens the Chamber of Secrets. This is also the year that 14 year old Myrtle dies. Augusta, Tom, Doris and Melvin are in their fifth year, and all of them are already 16, except for Augusta, who is still 15. _

_Minerva McGonagall, who you will meet in the next chapter, is in her sixth year, as is Pomona Sprout._

_:)_


End file.
